He is not the man I married
by ByzantineLobster
Summary: Originally something I wrote for the Life As An NPC subreddit; the Empress of Rome has a little chat with her daughter-in-law about what it means for the spirit of Rome to reside in the person you love.


He is not the man I married

I say that because he isn't. Oh, yes, I know, all women say that; people change over time. But pay attention.

I was sixteen when we were wed; as per the custom. His father, Kyros, third of his name, then the great Basileus of Rome Reborn, Defender of the Faith, arranged it. My father, vassal to the count of Provence, was stunned when the message arrived from Constantinople; a wedding between the Symbasileus and the second daughter of a mere Komes brought prestige such as we have never known. It was terrifying to be honest; I had thought that the best I could hope for was the fourth son of a count, or maybe a patrician in one of the merchant republics. To be told that your future husband will one day be God's Right Hand… to a six-year-old, that is terrifying.

My father arranged my education with the best; his chancellor, his spymaster; my future husband would need me to support him in all things, and my father would not accept anything less than perfection. As I grew older, I sometimes wondered about the boy I was to wed; would he be kind? I hoped so. My mother had told me of the husbands who were not; who were cruel, or worse. And when he took the purple, my husband would be answerable only to Almighty God.

I prayed, beseeching the Mother of God that he would be a good Christian, and possess that heavenly virtue, if no other.

Inevitably, like the dawn, my sixteenth birthday came, and within days, the message arrived from the Great Palace, proposing the betrothal be honoured; my father, of course, complied. Who would dare refuse the Augustus?

The ceremony was beautiful; the Hagia Sophia was filled, the Patriarch of Rome himself presiding over the ceremony. The Basilissia, my mother-in-law, charmed we poor country folk from the Empire's fringes, soothing my mother, coaxing laughter from my father, and setting my nerves at ease.

As for my husband; to this day I thank the Blessed Virgin. He was a painfully awkward boy, but sweet – apparently he's friends with half the Imperial Court. And kind; gentle as a lamb, at least for me. The whole Imperial Family was like that; I have ten brothers and sisters-in-law. Ten! Yes, I know that many families, especially peasants, have many children, but in the Imperial Family not one has been taken in infancy. Truly, our Lord has blessed them.

As He has blessed me – a kind, caring, charitable husband. Handsome, too – no trace of that awful double-chin that marred the Viceregal line in Anglia. And bright – painfully intelligent, in fact. I couldn't help but fall in love, and the Good Lord has blessed us with a child.

A picture of perfection, but for one thing.

The Basileus… there was something about him; a coldness. When he looked at me on my wedding day, it was as though there was nothing inside him. If I could liken Her Imperial Majesty to the sun, he was the cold nothing between the stars at night.

And such strange fits – not like those spasms of those possessed by demons, who spit and bite and curse. Nor like the lunatics, who spout nonsense. No, our great Emperor would simply sit in his throne and go rigid, his eyes unseeing, his mouth moving slightly. And the court simply accepted this as normal! Greatly daring, I asked one of my new sisters; the Desponia Theodosia. She told me that this had happened as long as she could remember; her father would, at random times, suddenly go rigid and stare at things no-one else could see. She looked troubled, but told me not to worry, to have faith in God, to remember that we Romans were beloved of Christ.

I tried to take heed of her counsel, but I did wonder; would the same thing happen to my husband? I watched him, but he displayed no hint of this. An awkward, kind, youth turned into a happy, friendly, strong man. And no other member of the Imperial Family showed any inclination towards the malady.

Yet I could not rest easy; not with that emptiness in the eyes of the Great Augustus. For a new fear assailed me – the Basileus is the keystone of the Empire. His ancestors fought back the Great Cataclysms, subduing the Germanic hordes, fighting back the Mohammadians, breaking the fury of the Northmen and made them all bow. And now he holds it all together, the pivot on which all the Empire turns. What if he were to go mad? Would the Empire tear itself apart? Would my husband be forced to do the unthinkable? I prayed to Saint Peter, asking him to watch over the liege of all Europe.

For a time, it seemed that the Saint had heard me; those fits did not impair the Basileus, and that cold emptiness did not turn him to evil. Indeed, he was just, and fair, and both his people and the nobility adored him; he displayed every Christian virtue. The Empire held together; in fact, it grew ever stronger, as it continues to do. We have more men under arms now than ever before.

My disquiet was soothed somewhat – blessed by a second, then a third child. Until the day the inevitable happened, and God called the Guardian of Christendom away to His side in Heaven.

The day my father-in-law went to sleep in Christ, I had been visiting my daughter. She was too young to learn of such things yet, and I bade the maids to mind her. My father had warned me of this day; when my husband took the Purple, and became the Viceroy of God on Earth, he would need me, for there is no-one closer to him than I. And even if I hadn't been warned, I would have gone, for my husband was a kind man, and he loved his father dearly; it was my duty both as his wife, and as someone who loved him, to be there for him at this time.

If I close my eyes, I can still see the scene play out before me. I found my husband standing before a window, looking out over the city, his back to me. The Dowager Empress, his mother, next to him. He did not turn as I entered; he showed no sign he even knew I was there until I touched his arm, when he turned to look at me, and I knew.

My husband's eyes, which had sparkled with love and laughter, were now cold and empty; the void between the stars. He did not look at me, but through me. The same emptiness I saw in his father; that terrible emptiness… it's not human.

I can still feel the arms of my mother-in-law folding around me, hear her soft voice murmuring comfort into my ear. I sat there with her, my husband watching something only he could see with that terrible gaze, and she told me; it was the very spirit of the Realm. As It had entered his father, and his grandfather, and every person to take the Purple since the Imperial Family took the throne all those centuries ago. As It would enter one of my sons; whoever was the most capable, she said. My husband was a genius; kind, patient, diligent, friendly. All those things that had made me fall in love with him, had, she said, made him most worthy – for only the most capable was chosen. Nothing less than the best for Roma.

I wept then; for it wasn't the Basileus who had died, but my husband. The old Augustus had died decades ago. The prayer I gave to God that night was bitter; I wanted the man I loved, the man He had blessed me with, to come back, but I am not stupid. You remember how I said that the One In The Purple is all that stands between us and ruination. I remembered it even then. I told the Lord that I understood why He did it, but for the sake of my wounded heart, I could not be content with it; I know that pride has always been my sin, and I didn't accept what I was told.

After that day, I visited the madhouses; I've seen the Possessed. They have a demon inside them; something has come and entered them and took up residence. I've even met the hellspawn of Bern, and, although he's more extreme, he's the same kind of creature. They all harbour a horror, but it is of this world, and it dwells inside. This gave me hope; sometimes the priests can drive such insanity out, and restore the person to what they were before. But the old Empress was wrong; this terrible emptiness is different. It can't be driven out because there is nothing to drive out. Nothing has made its abode in my husband's mind. The demons of insanity and possession are from this world. The emptiness is something outside of the world; my husband isn't a vessel for the spirit of Roma. He's a channel. A pathway for this _thing_ his mother called Roma.

In the Scriptures, our Lord and Saviour admonishes his followers of little faith. And I felt that admonition myself. I had begged Him to give me back the man I loved, and He heard me. We are Romans, and God _loves_ us. By His mercy, the emptiness does not reside in my husband at all times; it comes and goes. And Theodosia told me that it was for her father too. So my tears have long since dried; I am the Empress. It is my duty to Rome, and its people, and to God Almighty, for me to stand by my husband. My mother warned me that when he took the Purple, my husband would marry the Empire, would marry Rome, and I would always share him with her… or him… I'm not sure that even applies to be honest. Of course, I did't think my mother meant it literally.

Why am I telling you this? Why, my dear daughter-in-law, you are like me. Ferociously intelligent, strong, honest, with the virtues of diligence and patience; you are a masterful diplomat, and skilled at intrigue. Nothing but the best. My husband didn't arrange the marriage; that terrible emptiness did. You were picked by Roma to marry my son, the Symbasileus; as my husband is the doorway now, so yours will be in the future, and one of your sons after him. I felt I should forewarn you…

Oh dear. I did tell you to sit down.


End file.
